


Search

by lachatblanche



Series: Dollhouse AU [18]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:59:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles tries to find his sister.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Takes place a few months after 'Rewind'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Three years and two months ago,_

 

Things were not looking good for Dr. Charles Xavier, lauded Professor of Genetics and heir to the Xavier family fortune.

His sister, Raven, had gone missing over four months before – four long, cruel months in which Charles had spent every second of his time looking for her, talking to the police and hiring investigators to find her. None of these routes had yielded any results, however; the police couldn’t seem to find any trace of Raven, and the general consensus was that she had either run away or had been kidnapped whilst out on the streets. While the latter was certainly possible, Charles had been adamant about the first; although it was not unlike Raven to flee from home every once in a while, she had never been gone for more than a week. Furthermore, the time immediately preceding her disappearance had been calm and – dare he say it – happy. Raven had only ever run away from home when desiring to make a statement, after having argued loudly and thoroughly (and unsuccessfully) with Charles beforehand. That had not happened in this case; the house had been positively peaceful and Raven had shown no signs of dissatisfaction. 

At least, not with _him_.

Charles hadn’t recalled this fact immediately. It was only later, after the police reports began to peter out and his meetings with his private investigators became few and far between, that Charles, driven almost mad with fear and frustration, finally remembered his and Raven’s conversation about Sebastian Shaw. And that was when it hit him.

He hadn’t given much thought to his encounter with Shaw following their meeting but it was clear that Raven had. He had found a number of notes and articles in her bedroom that he’d never given much thought to before, all of which seemed to indicate an interest in the Shaw Foundation. Even her words from shortly before her disappearance began to strike him differently now; where before they had been relatively unimportant words from one of their many conversations, now they were clues; pieces of information that pointed in a big, flashing arrow-mark in the direction of his sister.

It was really quite obvious, now that he saw it. He didn’t know why he hadn’t before. With Raven’s angry words and passionate denouncements of the company, as well as his own personal knowledge of what his sister was like, it only added up to one thing: somehow, someway, Sebastian Shaw or his minions at the Shaw Foundation were responsible for his sister’s disappearance.

This fresh angle gave him a new surge of hope and a renewed determination to find out the truth. Unfortunately, the police didn’t seem to feel the same. They became very shifty once the Shaw name was mentioned, and several told him point blank that he was looking in the wrong direction and that he ought to leave the detective-work to the actual detectives. Realising that he was hitting a stone wall, Charles had then turned to his private investigators, only to have several of them reject the case outright and for the rest to return a week or two later, either claiming that they had hit dead ends or offering to return his money to him. 

This all but cemented it for Charles. Raven had been right: there was definitely something dodgy about the Shaw Foundation. 

This only motivated him to work even harder. He tried everything he could. He used whatever money he had and whatever influence the Xavier name would give him, but even so he still couldn’t get close. Everywhere he turned he was met with walls and stony silence and it was driving him to his wits end.

And then he got a phone call from Sebastian Shaw.

Charles had not been expecting it. His encounter with Shaw had been quite far from his mind, for all that he was trying to expose the man and his undoubtedly illegitimate dealings. And so when he’d answered the phone it had been in a state of distraction, torn between hoping that the call heralded news of his sister and the desire to go back to his own search.

‘Hello?’ he asked tiredly.

‘Charlie boy!’

The sound of the voice on the other end of the phone – not to mention the name used – caused Charles to almost recoil for a moment before his wits returned to him. He swallowed, his heart suddenly beating double-time.

‘… Mr. Shaw?’ he asked hesitantly, cradling the telephone receiver close to his face.

‘You remembered my voice!’ Shaw sounded genuinely delighted. ‘I’m glad to see that I made as much of a powerful impression on you as you made on me!’

Charles tried to say something but his mind was blank. He quietly told himself to breath and tried to slow the pulse of panic that was spreading through his veins. Why was Shaw calling? It had been _months_ since they had last met. Had he found out that Charles was investigating him? Was he going to warn him to back off?

Charles nervously cleared his throat and forced himself to respond. 

‘Well, I suppose that you have a very ...’ he paused then and shook his head, unable to stop himself from prodding, ‘I’m sorry, but – can I ask you how you got my telephone number?’

A quiet laugh echoed down the phone.

‘Oh, my dear,’ Shaw said fondly, ‘It was hardly difficult. I only had to call up the Science Department at your university and they were all too eager to help.’

Charles went still at that. The university was strictly forbidden to give away any such personal details without applying for permission first. Apparently Sebastian Shaw was not a man to whom the normal rules applied.

‘So, Charlie,’ Shaw continued as if oblivious to Charles’s inner turmoil, his voice all but oozing out of the phone, ‘I’ve been thinking …’

Charles’s grip on the phone tightened, his hands clammy. This was it, he thought. He’s going to tell me about Raven. He’s going to tell me that he has her and that her life is in his hands. He’s going to tell me –

‘… that we ought to meet for dinner.’

Charles blinked.

‘I’m sorry?’ he asked uncertainly.

‘Dinner,’ Shaw repeated crisply. ‘I think that we ought to see each other, don’t you think?’

Charles swallowed.

 _Raven,_ he thought desperately. _He has Raven and he wants to come to some sort of deal with me to ensure her safe return._

His fortitude restored, Charles clutched the receiver tightly to his cheek and let out a slow breath.

‘Yes,’ he said in a voice that revealed nothing of his fraught nerves or apprehension. ‘Yes, I think that is a very good idea.’

‘Excellent!’ Shaw said immediately, sounding pleased. ‘Is tomorrow night all right with you?’

‘How about tonight instead?’ Charles asked quickly. He wanted to get Raven back as soon as possible, after all.

Shaw made a delighted noise over the phone.

‘Even better,’ he murmured, ‘Shall we say tonight at eight?’

‘Eight sounds good,’ Charles answered faintly.

‘Excellent,’ Shaw’s voice was infused with a sense of smug pleasure. ‘I will pick you up then. See you soon, Charlie.’ And with that Shaw hung up, leaving Charles holding onto the receiver of his phone, feeling numb inside. It hadn’t skipped his notice that Shaw hadn’t asked for an address; likely the idiots down at the university office had thrown that in along with his telephone number. 

He sighed and, dropping the phone back into its cradle, brought his hands up to rub at his eyes. All he wanted to do was crawl into bed and hug his pillows close, but he knew that he couldn’t afford to do so. Eight o’ clock wasn’t all that far off and Charles had things to do before then; he had to clean up, take a shower and get dressed, and more importantly, call his bank in preparation of the quick withdrawal of funds. He was under no illusions that this was an innocent dinner; no, this was a thinly-veiled attempt at extortion and had there been anything else at stake, then Charles would have summarily stuck two fingers up at Shaw and told him to kindly bugger off before he called the police. With Raven though … he shook his head. Raven took precedence over everything: his anger, his money, his pride, and even common justice.

So he would meet Shaw, and he would do whatever it took to get Raven back, even if it meant draining every single one of his bank accounts in order to do so.

Time passed far too quickly and before he knew it, eight o’clock had come by, bringing with it a knock on the door of his apartment and causing Charles to freeze in place like a scared deer. A moment later he had recovered his poise and had moved over to open the door. Instead of seeing Shaw, however, there was a strange man there who nodded at him before stepping to the side, wordlessly inviting Charles to follow him. Charles was momentarily struck with an instinctive sense of overwhelming fear, but then he thought of Raven and he steeled himself once more. With a return nod at the man, he straightened his spine and followed him out of the door.

They were met at the front of the building by a sleek, long black limousine, and standing in front of it was –

‘Charlie!’ Shaw beamed at him, looking very neat and dapper in what was clearly a very expensive tuxedo. ‘It’s good to see you.’

‘Mr. Shaw,’ Charles said cautiously, holding out a hand for the man to shake. His eyes lingered almost anxiously on Shaw’s tuxedo and he found himself worrying that he, in his plain grey suit, would be underdressed for wherever Shaw chose to take them.

Shaw noticed Charles’s scrutiny for he smiled widely, his eyes gleaming as he returned the favour.

‘Now, now,’ he mock-scolded, his eyes tracing Charles up and down, ‘What have I said about you calling me that?’

Charles’s forced smile was more of a grimace.

‘Sorry,’ he said humbly, ‘I forgot … Sebastian.’

Shaw smiled before turning towards the car.

‘Shall we?’ he asked, holding the door open for Charles. 

Charles swallowed as he glanced down at the dark interior of the limo. Then, casting one last longing look back towards his apartment, he gave Shaw a weak smile and clambered in. Shaw climbed in immediately after him and, despite the seats being wide and spacious, decided to place himself close enough to Charles for their legs to brush. Charles gritted his teeth and casually edged away as best he could without drawing notice. He may have to spend time with Shaw, but that didn’t mean that he had to like it.

The car journey was spent with Charles smiling stiffly and listening as Shaw talked – mostly about himself. It was a tortuous journey, in some ways. Charles was bursting with nerves and impatience yet he couldn’t broach the subject just yet. Not so soon into the evening, before he could take Shaw’s measure and ensure that the man’s apparent goodwill wasn’t merely fleeting. Not with Raven’s life at risk. He would just have to play the game Shaw’s way, and if that meant being patient and listening while Shaw spouted nonsense all evening, then so be it.

Charles was subdued for the length of the journey, only opening his mouth to offer small noises of encouragement along the way. He remained so even after the car came to a stop and he was led into an upscale restaurant of the sort that even his mother would not have found anything to complain about. Not that Charles was even remotely surprised, of course. The Shaw Foundation had almost limitless wealth and, guessing by Shaw’s extracurricular activities, it wasn’t hard to see why. It did make Charles wonder, though, why exactly Shaw _needed_ to supplement his income in such a way, when he had such wealth to his name. Perhaps, Charles found himself thinking as he sat down in the chair that Shaw drew out for him, this wasn’t wholly about money after all. Maybe it was about something else. But, Charles thought, his blood running cold even as the sommelier poured him a glass of expensive red wine, if it wasn’t about money then what on earth was Shaw after …?

‘Good?’ Shaw’s voice broke through Charles’s thoughts.

‘Hmm? Oh, yes,’ Charles quickly sipped his drink and smiled weakly. ‘Splendid.’

‘It’s my favourite,’ Shaw confided with a roguish wink. ‘I always make sure that they keep a few bottles aside for me for when I’m in the country.’

‘Are you not here often, then?’ Charles asked, trying to appear natural.

Shaw smiled.

‘Not as much as I would like,’ he admitted, ‘But I’m sure that I could be persuaded to stop by more frequently.’ And his hand reached across the table to cover Charles’s.

 _Oh dear,_ Charles thought. _Not this again._

‘Yes,’ he said instead, smiling tightly and gently but firmly extricating his hand from Shaw’s. ‘I suppose you could.’

Shaw all but pouted at him, but there was an amused gleam in his eye all the same. He watched Charles with an almost fond expression on his face as the waiter came and took their orders, his unwavering gaze causing Charles to stumble over his words a few times. It was only when their food had been served and the waiters gone that conversation resumed once more.

To Charles’s frustration, however, not a single word that left Shaw’s lips touched upon Raven.

‘I have this gorgeous villa in Italy,’ Shaw was saying, moving his arm out of the way as the waiters stealthily removed the plates from their now-finished starters. ‘It’s really the most charming little place – you really ought to see it, my dear boy, I’m sure you would think it divine …’

Charles tolerated this all the way through to the start of the main course, when he finally lost what little grasp he’d had on his otherwise inexhaustible patience.

‘Mr. Shaw-’ he began, cutting the other man off, ‘I mean, _Sebastian_ – I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but I can’t – it’s just – my sister!’ he burst out, unable to keep it all in. ‘I need to know about my sister.’

Shaw blinked.

‘Your … sister?’ he asked, frowning.

‘ _Yes_ ,’ Charles said, feeling hugely relieved. ‘My sister, Raven.’

Shaw slowly put down his fork.

‘I’m afraid that I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean, my boy,’ he said, frowning slightly. ‘And I have to say, I am quite astonished that you would bring up your _sister_ whilst at dinner, and in such a manner, too.’

Charles stared at the man opposite him, his mouth open.

‘But-’ he stammered, ‘ _Raven-_ ’

Shaw’s face darkened.

‘I will not have this dinner interrupted,’ he snapped, causing Charles to jump in his seat. Shaw’s face immediately cleared upon seeing this, and he instead smiled sweetly at Charles. ‘My apologies,’ he said smoothly. ‘Delighted as I would be to be introduced to your family, I would really much rather spend my time talking about _you_.’ He once again reached out to grasp Charles’s hand, but this time Charles was too quick for him and he easily evaded Shaw’s grasp, causing the other man to frown in mild irritation.

Charles was now feeling really quite confused and uneasy. He hadn’t even considered that this might happen; that Shaw might deny all knowledge of Raven’s existence and refuse to even talk about her. He swallowed, dread rising high in his chest, and bravely continued.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, refusing to be cowed by Shaw’s frown, ‘but I can’t just drop this. Raven is my sister – Raven Darkholme, is her name. She’s missing. Before she disappeared, she – I am _sure_ she was looking into the Shaw Foundation. I think – I think she might have broken into one of your facilities and has been missing ever since.’

Shaw was watching him now with an inscrutable expression. He was silent for a moment, taking the time to study Charles’s face.

‘I am afraid that I am unfamiliar with the name,’ he said at last, his voice cool and even. His tone was pleasant but there was a dark look in his eye. ‘But be assured, my boy, that I will be looking into this matter personally.’ He fixed Charles with a penetrating gaze. ‘Yes,’ he murmured, his eyes not moving away from Charles’s, ‘I will certainly be looking into it.’

For some reason this statement, rather than reassuring Charles, sent a ripple of anxiety through him.

‘Thank you,’ he managed to say, dipping his head at Shaw. ‘I very much appreciate it.’

Shaw, however, didn’t seem to be very much interested in Charles’s sense of gratitude.

‘So tell me, Charles,’ he said, picking up his glass of wine and taking a long, deep draught of it. ‘Just out of interest – why was it that you came here with me tonight?’

Charles looked surprised at the question and he eyed Shaw perplexedly, sure that there was some sort of minefield that he was about to walk into without his knowledge.

‘I – I thought it was about Raven,’ he said hesitantly. ‘I thought you had some information …’ He trailed off.

Shaw didn’t look happy at the answer, even though he seemed to have expected it. He took another swig of his drink, finishing it off, before signalling impatiently at a waiter to fill the glass back up, an order that was obeyed with remarkable alacrity. 

‘I see,’ he said, his voice even. ‘You came for your sister.’

Charles, keeping otherwise very still, nodded.

‘Hmm,’ Shaw looked broodingly down into his newly-replenished glass. ‘So to you, this was a – a _business_ meeting.’ It was more of a statement than a question.

Charles swallowed.

‘I – yes,’ he said, trying to cover his apprehension with a smile. ‘I’m afraid that I thought – yes. That is correct.’

‘And if I had asked you to dine with me otherwise,’ Shaw asked, his eyes still on his wine, ‘Say, for _romantic_ purposes. Would you still have agreed?’

The blood drained from Charles’s cheeks, only to rush up again once more, as he was caught between feeling anxious and exceedingly uncomfortable. He hesitated, and that was more than enough to answer Shaw’s question.

‘I see,’ Shaw’s mouth twisted up into a harsh smile. ‘So that’s how it is.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Charles said immediately, his expression earnest. ‘I honestly didn’t realise what it was that-’

‘Haven’t I been clear?’ Shaw interrupted him, his voice cold. ‘Did you _really_ not understand the meaning of my overtures tonight?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Charles repeated helplessly. ‘But I-’

‘But you chose to deliberately lead me on,’ Shaw said, his voice suddenly silky smooth and dangerous. ‘You decided to flaunt yourself at me, tried to make a _fool_ of me-’

‘No!’ Charles protested hotly, his fear quickly receding in the face of his growing outrage. ‘That is _not_ what happened here!’

‘Oh yes,’ Shaw purred, ignoring Charles’s protests, his eyes hard and his voice venomous. ‘I know exactly what you were doing, my sweet little pet. You were playing with me, weren’t you? Dangling yourself in front of me like a cheap little _whore_ , only to pull back at the last minute and _laugh_ at me.’

Charles, almost white with rage and distress, couldn’t take any more. 

‘I believe that you and I are done here,’ he said coldly, even as his heart sank, knowing as he did that Raven’s life was probably in the hands of this very man. He rose from his seat and turned to look at Shaw. ‘I am sorry that you misconstrued my interest,’ he said coolly, ‘It was not at all my intention, and I am sorry that it affected you so very badly. I dislike parting on unfriendly terms, Mr. Shaw, so I shall try to forget that this evening ever happened. I sincerely hope that you try to do the same, and look upon me in a friendlier manner in the future.’ He nodded stiffly at Shaw, before pulling out his wallet from his pocket and placing a few notes on the table. ‘I will make my own way home,’ he said, before tucking his wallet back into his pocket and turning away. He had only made it a pace away when Shaw spoke.

‘I’ll make sure to keep an eye out for your sister,’ Shaw called, his tone once again genial and benevolent. Charles glanced back at him briefly and then quickly turned away, shuddering. Shaw’s anger seemed to have dissipated and its stead was something cold and calculating; a fire seemed to have suddenly lit up in those gleaming eyes and a cruel smile was pulling at his mouth. 

Charles shivered and quickly walked away. He couldn’t help feeling that, somehow, he had made a terrible, terrible mistake.


	2. Chapter 2

The reality of the situation only struck him the next day. 

He had no idea how to get his sister back. His one promising lead had fallen through: Shaw had known nothing about Raven. His contacting Charles, it seemed, had been nothing but sheer coincidence.

And yet Charles could not shake the idea that the Shaw Foundation was _somehow_ involved in Raven’s disappearance. He _knew_ Raven, and he knew how passionately she had believed in the wrong-doing of the company. When Raven got such ideas into her head they were all but unshakeable, and she was not the kind of girl who would just sit at home and shake her head at it. She was the sort who would charge head-first into the melee, not caring what stood in her way and what dangers she might be exposing herself to. It was one of the things that Charles loved best about her, even as he despaired of it.

He had, of course, long since realised what it was that Raven had been doing. In a move that was fantastically like the way she had once, at the tender age of twelve, broken into a pet store to emancipate the animals within, Raven had been planning to break into the Shaw Foundation headquarters with the intention of doing much the same for any unfortunate creature that she found there.

Charles stared at the notes and papers on the desk in Raven’s room, marvelling at what it was that she had been planning. She had made all sorts of detailed notes and diagrams, both about what little was known of the Foundation’s research as well as of the known personnel therein. She had even gone so far as to draw up a plan on how to enter the building undetected, the blueprints of which now rested in Charles’s hands.

He looked at them. They were actually really very good. Very detailed, very precise. 

Charles really hadn’t needed more than a minute to make up his mind. With all other options gone, there was only one possible recourse left to him: he had to break into the Shaw Foundation headquarters himself.

 

**…**

 

And that was how, two short weeks later, Charles found himself sat behind a desk deep down in the dark recesses of the basement in the Shaw Foundation headquarters, his hands cuffed tightly together and his head still reeling from the tranquilizers that had been shot into his system.

He came to with a wretched headache, his eyes creaking open with what felt like superhuman effort. His eyelids felt impossibly heavy and his vision was too blurred to make out anything at all tangible. He shifted in his seat and allowed his eyes to close for a moment while he tried to remember what had happened. He let out a groan when it finally came back to him.

It was actually rather humiliating how quickly he had been captured, to be honest. Even his weeks of preparation had been of little use. He hadn’t taken into account the fact that, while full of the best intentions, he was really an academic at heart, and not made for secrecy and espionage. Whilst being reasonably fit and athletic, he lacked the stealth and grace that came naturally to his sister and, in the end, all it had taken was for him to place one wrong foot in front of a horribly-placed security laser beam to bring what felt like the entire Shaw Foundation security force crashing down on him. A millisecond later, and he was glancing down perplexedly at the dart that was sticking out of his thigh, and then he was suddenly looking at the floor instead, and then he knew no more.

Charles grimaced as he remembered it. Even now, tired and drugged as he was, it was still a crushing blow to his pride that he had been taken so easily. Perhaps he shouldn’t have dismissed Raven’s invitations for him to join her in the gym quite so decisively …

This memory of Raven immediately reminded him of what he was doing there, and he quickly pulled himself back into focus, pushing away the cottony feeling that was trying to cloud his mind. Once he was certain that he was in full control of his faculties, he decided to sit up. Then, taking a deep breath, he painstakingly forced his eyelids open once more.

‘Hello, Charles.’

Charles blinked.

In front of him sat a beautiful woman dressed all in white with not a hair out of place on her fabulously blonde head. Charles could not help but colour when he realised that she had been watching him this whole time, but he forced himself to meet her eyes, swallowing thickly. 

‘… Hello,’ he said awkwardly when he finally found himself capable of speech.

The woman smiled. She was wearing a calm but otherwise blank expression that somehow chilled him to the core.

‘Hello, Charles,’ she said again, and Charles felt a keen sense of dread building inside him. ‘My name is Emma Frost, and you and I have a great deal to talk about.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a wonderful Christmas everyone! I hope to have another part up before the end of December, but in case I don't, I hope you have a fantastic New Year as well x x x


End file.
